


Shacking Up

by ab2fsycho



Series: I'm the Chip You're the Dip [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Human!Bill, I swear to God, It's happening, M/M, Sex, but i will warn it is in chapter 4, dubious consent throughout, it's vague, okay so sexy fun times ya'll, older!Pines, possible rape threat, potential pwp, reader decides actual threat but it can be problematic, should have tagged this better, sorry - Freeform, that awful thing we don't talk about, this is literally what makes me feel better after writing that awful thing, trigger warning, well i don't at least, yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New employee Bill doesn't give Dipper much choice in the matter; he's gonna have to put up with Bill whether he likes it or not.</p><p>EDIT: Very important guys, if you've already read this please check again! For some reason the last chapter was missing the last couple of sentences and fuck I'm sorry! Please read them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes. The nice fic. The other's the bad fic. That's literally how I talk about them. Nice fic, bad fic, and I'm gonna post a sad fic a little later. Heaven help me, for I have fallen and can't get up.

“I don't like him.”

“You haven't even talked to him yet.”

“There's something about him.”

“You don't know that.”

“Look, he gives me the creeps.”

“I don't know. He's kind of adorable if you ask me.” She gasped. “That's what it is! You're crushing on him!”

“How does having a crush on someone equate to being creeped out by them.”

“They feel pretty similar to me.”

“And this is why it didn't work out with, what, your first five boyfriends?” Mabel slapped a large sticker over his mouth, making him grumble incoherently before peeling it off his lips. When he read the words 'Happy Valentine's Day' on the sticky paper, his immediate reaction was to crumple it up and toss it. “Why do you have Valentine's Day stickers in June?”

“You never know when a sticker might come in handy. You must be prepared.” Then she squealed. “And I'm gonna get you a date with Bill!”

Dipper's face reddened. “You really don't need to do that.” That was the opposite of what he wanted. That was the last thing he needed. His last crush on a coworker at the Mystery Shack had resulted in a close friendship and nothing more. Besides, this situation was nothing like that. He didn't even like Bill!

Bill Cipher had only been working for a few days, Grunkle Stan taking the teen under his wing at the beginning of summer. When Dipper asked why, all Grunkle Stan said was that he owed the kid. Still Dipper, didn't see that as being a good enough reason for Bill not only working there, but _staying in the shack_. And Bill was creepy. Not just odd, _creepy_. It had nothing to do with the unexplained eye-patch, or the way his grin seemed . . . sharp. That was a good word for it. It was more to do with the way he postured, standing like he was above everyone else. And the charm. He was entirely too charming. Some charm was necessary in a retail business, but that much charm was unnatural and perhaps denoting narcissism. Dipper was certain that if Bill sliced his arm, he would probably bleed gold and confidence. That idea may be why Grunkle Stan tolerated him, actually.

Bill was handsome for his age. On that, Dipper would reluctantly concede. It was the only point Bill had in his favor. But still, Dipper didn't like him. He wasn't sure what it was, but his skin crawled whenever he and Bill were within two feet of one another. Since Bill sometimes forgot the concept of personal space, that happened more often than Dipper would care to admit.

“Oh yeah!” Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper when she said, “It's happening.”

“I'll be damned.”

“Fine!” she uttered nonchalantly. “I may just take him for myself.”

“Ugh!” Dipper spat, shuddering at the thought. He was even less comfortable with the idea of Mabel dating Bill. For some reason, it just felt even more wrong.

In that moment, he really missed Wendy. He knew she was enjoying college. Her text messages and constant voicemails told him that. But he wished it were her working the cash register with him and not Bill.

Lost in thought, Dipper hadn't seen Bill approaching. So when the taller teen plopped one elbow on the counter and leaned forward suddenly, Dipper almost fell backwards. Fortunately, there was a wall there to catch him, but the embarrassment was the same. And his skin. Oh how it crawled. “What's cookin', Pine tree?”

“Nothing,” Dipper answered immediately.

Bill snorted. “You oughta be careful Pine tree. With that tone, someone might think you're,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “up to something.”

Dipper most certainly did not shiver at the way Bill's voice dropped. Face heating up, he was eternally grateful when Mabel slid between him and Bill and asked, “So what do you do in your spare time? You got any plans this weekend?”

Bill smirked and let out a small chuckle. Dipper almost screamed 'no' at Mabel when Bill started to answer with, “My weekends are pretty much free. I have yet to develop any real hobbies around here.”

“Well,” she began, then out of nowhere pulled Dipper into the conversation (literally), “Dipper was going to go hunting.”

“Mabel!” he squeaked, and he remembered just how much he hated his voice.

Bill's eye glinted. “You hunt?”

“No!” he shouted, straightening up and trying to put some distance between himself and the other two conspiring against him. Did this count as a conspiracy? It felt like it. “Not . . . not the kind of hunting you're thinking.”

Bill's face scrunched up playfully. “I didn't think so. You don't look the type.”

“Type?” Dipper squinted. “What do you mean I don't look the type?”

“To go around shooting innocent little woodland creatures. You look more like the kid who cried over Bambi's mom,” Bill declared.

Mabel covered her mouth, snickering as she refrained from saying what Dipper just knew she was going to say. He silently pleaded for her to be quiet, to not say it. But she did. “He sobbed.” Her voice was high-pitched, dogs easily hearing it from miles away.

Bill, to his credit, did not laugh. However, the smirk on his face looked a little too . . . Dipper didn't know. Mirthful? Entertained? He wasn't sure of a proper word. He was so focused on finding a proper word that he missed seeing Bill lean even more on the counter, head propped up in his hands as he asked, “So what kind of hunting?”

“Huh?” Dipper said, plastering himself against the wall away from Bill. He was about to move from behind the counter, but was blocked. When had Mabel taken to standing there? Was he so out of it that he hadn't seen her move either? Was Mabel intentionally blocking his only exit? 

Yes. Yes she was.

“What do you hunt if not Bambi? Mushrooms? Criminals? Mysteries?”

“He's an explorer. Explores anything that looks remotely interesting,” Mabel offered.

He didn't even need to be there, did he. Mabel was going to set this up whether he liked it or not. “Exploring is one of my favorite things,” Bill interjected. Was it just Dipper, or did that statement sound way more suggestive than anything Bill had said before? “We should do that sometime,” he directed at Dipper.

Mabel looked so overjoyed as Bill returned to work that Dipper almost couldn't hate her for what she'd just done. Almost. Glaring at her, she only smiled back, eyes half-closed as she gloated her success. “Looks like you're gonna have that date I was telling you about.”

Without missing a beat, Dipper pulled out his cell phone and dialed a particular number. Putting the phone to his ear, he kept his glare on Mabel. Her face contorted into one of utter horror as someone answered the phone and Dipper said, “Yes, is this the Gleeful residence?”

“Dipper no!” she cried, flinging herself at him.

He held his hand out and caught her forehead, keeping her at arm's length. “Hi, Gideon. Yeah, I still have your number. I would apologize, but Mabel here—”

“Dipper no! Don't do this!” she screamed, swinging her arms.

“—was wondering if you were available to see a movie Friday night. She's nervous about asking because, you know, you tried to kill me that one time.”

“Dipper, I'm begging you!” She dropped to her knees, hands clasped and eyes wide. “I thought you loved me!”

“Oh, you'll be here at eight? Awesome. Do let me know what prison was like.” He slid his phone back into his pocket and walked around Mabel.

“Dipper, how could you?!” she screamed, falling flat on the floor.

“Doesn't feel too good, does it?” he said, leaving her on the wooden floors and deciding to take his break then. He walked past Grunkle Stan, who just entered the room to see Mabel stretched out on the floor and still shouting at her twin. The old man looked at him, a mixture of confusion and concern playing across his face. “Don't ask,” Dipper uttered.

“No fear of that,” Grunkle Stan responded. 

Later, as Dipper was reading in the break room, he felt a presence creep up on him. Looking up over the top of the book, he watched as Bill slid languidly into a chair across the table from him. The other man's head was tilted slightly, eye narrowing in on Dipper and grin disturbingly knowledgeable. Dipper resisted the urge to pull the book up higher so he wouldn't have to look at Bill or acknowledge how close he was. There was a long silence between them, and Dipper was starting to lose control of his breathing. Something about Bill just made him nervous. There was something so familiar about him, and yet he was most certainly a stranger. Dipper couldn't help but feel like he was shrinking whenever Bill was around, like the man made him feel small.

“So,” Bill finally broke the quiet, “when are you gonna tell her?”

“Huh?” It was Dipper's turn to narrow his eyes.

“I admire your ability to deceive. I bet with practice you'd make a wonderful liar.”

“What are you talking about?” More like why are you bothering me, Dipper thought. He couldn't even begin to express how badly he wanted to be left alone, especially after Mabel had just tried setting up a date between him and the coworker across from him.

“Let's face it: you didn't actually call that Gideon prick,” Bill whispered, leaning on his elbows.

Was that all? Dipper sighed and looked back at his book. “I would never actually do that. His unnatural obsession with Mabel really did almost get me killed.”

“I'd like to hear that story sometime.”

“Look,” Dipper closed the book and set it down, knowing he wasn't going to be able to read anymore. Staring levelly at Bill, he leaned in and said, “I did that to get Mabel off my back. Teach her a lesson. Got it? Now I'm just gonna let her sweat it out for a while, then I'll tell her.”

There was something dangerous in Bill's gaze, and Dipper resisted the urge to slide back and away from the other as Bill leaned in and said, “I bet you're really good at teaching people a lesson.”

“Does everything you say have to sound like a suggestion?” Dipper asked.

Bill burst out laughing, teeth flashing. Dipper swore he saw fangs, but just knew his mind was playing tricks on him. His imagination had always been astounding. When Bill finally calmed down enough to speak again, he let out a long sigh and said, “You seem fun, kid. I like your wit.” Then his gaze became intense and Dipper felt his hair stand on end. “Perhaps we can forget about the exploration stuff and simply have a battle of wits.”

Dipper's chin raised as he scratched the stubble on it. Sizing Bill up, he asked, “How would you go about a battle of wits?”

Bill snorted. “Simple. You try to outwit me, I try to outwit you. An ongoing competition.”

“So,” Dipper thought aloud, “we'd basically be trying to one-up each other indefinitely?”

“Perhaps,” Bill said.

Dipper couldn't believe he was considering this. An hour ago, Bill unnerved him. Well, he still did. But now, suddenly he was about to engage in a competition with him. “Are we talking a series of puzzles or a full-on prank war?”

“Both.” Bill lowered his head, gaze turning predatory. “Loser has to step outside naked. What do you say?”

That sounded like a challenge. “All this because you liked the way I tricked Mabel.”

Bill sighed. “No. I'm bored to death and I need something to kill time with. And you presented the opportunity without meaning to. You see,” he folded his head behind his head and leaned back, “I miss good old-fashioned tests of intelligence.”

“You should take up chess, then.” And not bother trying to freak me out, Dipper thought.

“Nah. I'm not a strategist.”

“Strategy's pretty important in a battle.”

“Prove that to me, then,” Bill said.

If it wasn't an outright challenge before, Bill was certainly challenging him now. Before Dipper knew what he was agreeing to, he said, “Accepted.”

Bill's facial expression was blindingly brilliant, and it genuinely terrified Dipper to look upon it. “Excellent!” Standing up and leaving Dipper to his book, Bill turned to him and said, “One way or another, kid, I'm gonna get you naked outside.”

Dipper's eyes widened and his face flushed. What exactly did he just agree to?


	2. Chapter 2

The battle had begun. Dipper had felt unprepared at first, but after a few days of getting to know Bill's tactics he thought he'd figured him out.

Bill's tricks started off simple: a tack on a chair. Fortunately, Dipper thought to look down before sitting. When he saw it, he picked it up and sent it flying at Bill. When Bill saw what Dipper had thrown at him, a wry grin slid across his face.

Dipper retaliated with a trick just as plain: marbles on the floor. Leaving them overnight, he expected to hear a loud thunk of Bill hitting the floor at some point. Instead when he woke up and went downstairs to get breakfast started, Bill greeted him with a, “Hey, Pine tree.” Dipper looked down to see that Bill had drawn a chalk circle around the marbles Dipper had set out to trip the other man. “Wanna play a game?” Bill asked, lowering his voice considerably to sound creepier. Dipper just shook his head and proceeded to the kitchen.

There he encountered Bill's next trick: switching salt and sugar in the morning. Dipper actually smiled at Bill's attempts. Too bad Mabel had done this to him enough in their younger years that Dipper could actually look at salt and sugar and know the visual difference of texture. He was switching the two substances back to their typical places when Bill stumbled into the kitchen and chuckled at him. Dipper almost chuckled back. Bill would have to do better than that to get him.

Dipper's next attempt was a little less kind: putting shortening on the floor at the bottom of the steps. Dipper made sure to do this when there was no fear of Soos, Grunkle Stan, or Mabel happening upon the trap instead of Bill. He thought for sure he would get Bill with that, but when he caught Bill by the stairs again the man was mopping.

Dipper squinted. “What? How—?” he started out loud.

Bill turned to him with a half-lidded gaze and leaned on the mop. “You really should be careful where you spill things, Pine tree,” he leered. “Someone could trip.”

Dipper just sighed and walked away.

Dipper almost got hit by Bill's next attempt to fool him: silly string when turning a corner. If it weren't for Dipper hearing the shaking of the can while coming down the hall, Bill might have succeeded and hit him in the face. Luckily, he dodged the stream of foamy string that had come ricocheting out at him. When he stepped forward and saw Bill reclining against the wall with the can in his hand, the other man actually looked disappointed. If Dipper didn't know any better, he'd say Bill was actually pouting.

He wouldn't be pouting when Dipper hit him with his next trick: bungee cording Bill's doorknob to the doorknob adjacent (a closet, thankfully). Only this time when Dipper came downstairs the following morning, he stopped at the foot of the stairs and just stood staring wide-eyed. Why? Because Bill was standing in the doorway to his room with what looked like a machete in one hand and the remnants of the bungee cord in the other hand. Twirling the gigantic knife between his fingers, Dipper felt his voice crack as he asked, “What the fuck, man?!”

“What's the matter, Pine tree?” he asked nonchalantly. He stopped twirling the knife before asking, “Unlike you, I didn't cry over Bambi's mom. Know why?”

“Obviously because you killed her. Put that away! Why do you even have that?”

“Reasons. Does it make you nervous?” Bill tossed the cords aside, running a finger along the machete's edge. 

His grin looked just as sharp and Dipper's skin crawled at the sight. “No,” he answered a little too softly. He didn't think Bill had heard him at first.

Bill's smile widened as he picked up a playful tone and asked, “Does the size disappoint you?”

“Jesus Christ! No!” Dipper yelled.

“Then walk past,” Bill challenged, waving the machete down the hall.

Dipper had to stop himself from shaking his head. No, he was not walking past that thing. Not while Bill was holding it. But he'd challenged him, and he didn't want Bill to accuse him of losing the battle because he was afraid of a knife. But it wasn't just a knife, Dipper thought to himself. It was a machete in the hands of someone who made every hair on Dipper's body tingle just from walking by, and said person was telling him to walk past. This was a recipe for disaster.

Dipper had to think logically though: was it really likely that Bill would kill him? In his own house? Well, technically not his house, but still. Would Bill do that? That grin told him yes.

Dipper closed his eyes and exhaled. Get it together man, he thought. You can do this. Just take the first step and then don't stop. Just keep walking.

Talking himself through it actually worked until he neared Bill's door. His skin started to feel like waves of electricity were pulsing across his skin. Bill's grin looked even deadlier from this vantage point, too. Just keep walking, Dipper thought. Just. Keep . . . .

Bill moved the slightest bit and Dipper had plastered himself against the opposite wall. The other man burst out laughing at Dipper's face, which in turn made Dipper fluster and growl, “Dude, don't do that!”

“You'd think I raised it to kill you,” Bill said between laughs. “I was just setting it down.” And then he did, in fact, lay it down on the dresser inside his room. Still laughing, he came outside and pulled Dipper off the wall before sliding an arm over his shoulders. “Lighten up, Pine tree.”

“I will not lighten up,” Dipper declared, shoving Bill's arm off of him. He fought the urge to shudder at the contact he'd shared with Bill momentarily. “Break from the pranks. Let's have an actual battle of wits.”

“Oh,” Bill crooned. “Do let's. I like riddles. How is a raven like a writing desk?”

Dipper's answer was immediate, “They make notes. Also, Edgar Allan Poe.” He started making coffee.

Before he could provide his own riddle, Bill said, “You know that wasn't intended to have an answer.”

“Well, Lewis Carroll, it does.” He pulled two mugs down and set them beside the coffee maker, which he'd already put to work. Turning back to Bill, who seemed impressed with his retaliation, he asked, “What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs midday, and three legs in the afternoon?”

Bill's eye glinted and his smile returned full force. Dipper was afraid he was about to make a lewd joke when instead he said, “A man. Which Greek play did you pull that from?”

“I don't remember,” Dipper admitted.

Bill snorted. “What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?”

“Mountain. And technically mountains do grow,” Dipper's eyes narrowed, “Gollum.”

“I like to think I have more teeth than Gollum,” Bill thought aloud.

You have sharper teeth than Gollum, Dipper thought. There was quiet until Dipper poured them both cups of coffee. Setting the first cup down in front of Bill, Dipper sat down with his and proceeded to add sugar to it. He stared at the white granules, half expecting them to magically turn into salt at Bill's behest. It did not happen, fortunately. Staring at his cup for a moment, he looked up to see Bill eyeing his cup of coffee suspiciously. “I didn't do anything to it, okay?”

Bill looked up at him, then back down and shook his head. “Oh, no, um,” he trailed off, and Dipper's head tilted. Had he ever heard Bill sputter like that before? He didn't think so. Whatever was causing the man to stutter released him, for he returned to staring Dipper down and asked, “Got another riddle?”

Dipper smirked, quirking an eyebrow. “First rule of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.”

“Don't panic.” Bill scratched the patch of hair on his chin. “Who can jump higher than a mountain?”

Dipper paused to think about it. Blowing across his coffee, he took a sip before answering, “Anyone.”

Bill snickered. “What makes you say that?”

“Mountains can't jump.”

Bill's smile widened as he sipped his coffee without blowing on it, not even acknowledging that it was still steaming. When he set the mug back down, he uttered, “I really don't want to like you.”

Taken aback, Dipper didn't know how to respond at first. Leaning back in his chair, he started talking before he could stop himself, “Feeling's mutual.”

Bill's brow furrowed as a devilish look crossed his face. Changing the subject, he asked, “How'd Shootin' star take it when she found out you pranked her?”

Dipper shook his head. “Haven't you noticed? She's not speaking to me.”

“I noticed. I was hoping she threw something at you, though.”

“She did. She threw her mattress.” Bill burst out laughing. When he stopped laughing, Dipper added, “And made me put it back.”

“All's fair, I guess.” Draining his cup, he stood to place it in the sink. Turning back to Dipper, he said, “Riddles are fun, kid. But you better get ready, 'cause the next round is gonna be brutal.”

Dipper believed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content ahead.

“You know who he reminds me of?”

“No.”

“Our imaginary friend.” There was a pause. Mabel turned to looked at him, her chin still propped up by her hands behind the counter. “You know, the one we talked to as kids? Remember?”

“No.”

She threw an eraser at his head. “Yes you do! You know exactly who I'm talking about.”

“No.”

She then pulled the book he had been reading out of his hands. “You do remember him! I know you do!”

“No.”

“He had a pyramid for an eye and he looked just like Bill! He even played pranks like him, you know this!”

“No.”

She smacked the hat off his head. “Is that all you're gonna say to me?!”

“On this subject, yes,” Dipper declared. He grabbed at his book, “Now be quiet, or he'll hear you.”

“Why do you care so much if he hears you?”

“This is war, Mabel. We've been at war since the Gideon call.” And honestly he liked it better when she wasn't talking to him during the battle of wits. That way, he wasn't distracted by anyone. He really needed to focus on winning. Bill was getting craftier, and Dipper felt like he was running out of ideas.

Mabel was indeed quiet for a moment. Then she got close to him. Really close. Uncomfortably close. She was practically breathing on him. He was about to tell her to go away when she whispered, “I have an idea.”

“I don't want to hear it,” he uttered. But then she proceeded to whisper it to him anyway. At first, he didn't listen. Then he couldn't help himself. As she progressed to whisper her plan in his ear, his eyes steadily widened and he'd lost focus on the page he'd been on. By the time Mabel was done, he was nodding. “Let's do it,” he whispered as soon as she pulled away.

“Yes,” she hissed out excitedly.

:)

Mabel's idea was not one in which they would likely witness the discovery of the trick. However, they would certainly witness the results. And Dipper had heard an insane number of obscenities being spewed from about one in the morning to seven. He didn't dare ask Bill how he was holding up. He didn't dare look at Bill. He just knew that after today he'd be the winner of this little tournament of theirs. That is, as soon as Bill owned up to what had happened.

The shack wasn't operating that day. Grunkle Stan was busy planning an event of sorts that would bring in some more money than the tours, so Bill was hard to find. Not that Dipper was looking for him. It was more that he was looking out for him. He really wasn't sure he was ready to see Bill's reaction.

Dipper was standing with Mabel and her friends as they were helping Grunkle Stan make plans when he felt someone grasp his upper arm firmly. His eyes widened as Bill uttered in his ear, “Might I have a word?”

Dipper somehow guessed that Bill wasn't actually asking. Either way, he was going to get dragged away from the others. For the first time in the weeks since their competition had begun, the hairs on Dipper's body rose at how close Bill was to him. He hadn't realized how used to the fellow employee he'd gotten until then, just as he hadn't realized that he was still slightly intimidated by him.

Bill was starting to drag Dipper away. At last minute, Dipper called to Mabel, “I'll be back later!” She said nothing in response, but she at least looked concerned. That was good. He didn't have to shout 'avenge me' to get his real point across because she'd know who killed him.

Being dragged through the shack, Dipper's heart hammered. Bill didn't stop pulling him around until they were upstairs in the uninhabited parts of the attic where Dipper used to sit and hide with his books. When Bill finally let him go, Dipper turned to face him and found him scowling. The deep red looked unnatural on Bill's face, his darkened gaze making Dipper gulp. Oh God, he thought, Bill really is going to kill me. Bill's voice was an octave lower than normal when he said, “I'd find your latest trick ingenious if it weren't for the fact that it wasn't your plan.”

Dipper's eyes widened. Scratching the back of his head, he asked, “What makes you say that?”

“First, let's review!” Bill held up his hand, prepared to tick a list off on his fingers. “Alarm clock at midnight thirty.”

Dipper looked from side to side, staring at anything but Bill. “Uh huh?”

“Next,” he ticked off another finger, “I sit up and hit my head on a side table someone had oh so carefully placed over my face.”

Snorting, Dipper nodded. “Yep.” Now that was his idea.

Ticking off another finger, “Itching powder in my pajamas. Now that can't possibly be your idea.”

“Uh . . .,” it wasn't. The itching powder had all been Mabel. He wasn't about to admit to that, though.

“And you should be very fortunate your uncle's soap that turns skin colors doesn't work on me for some reason. Very. Fortunate,” Bill declared. By this time, Dipper was covering his mouth to keep from recalling just all he and Mabel had done to Bill the night before. “And that leads me to the one piece of evidence that says you weren't the only genius involved here, because if the itching powder wasn't enough of a hint then the glitter on the soap was.”

Oh no. Mabel no. Mabel, how could you? Holding his hands up, Dipper said, “I can explain the glitter—”

“Yes, you can. I know how, too. You cheated!” Bill then jabbed Dipper hard in the chest.

“Hey!” Dipper rubbed the spot Bill had hit. He felt his anger emerging at the accusation. Him? Cheat? No. No, that wasn't right. “We never established any rules about getting ideas from external sources.”

“You didn't just get an idea. She actually helped you!”

“She?” How had he known it was Mabel?

“Gimme a break, Pine tree! Your sister's the only one in this place who even owns glitter!”

“It wasn't cheating! The only rule was that one of us has to outwit the other, and as far as I can tell I win!”

“No, let's be honest here: _she_ wins!” Their voices were getting louder, the two of them drawing near and screaming in each other's faces. 

“And you. Lose! So go stand naked in the woods to your heart's content!”

“I will!” Then Bill's glare became a combination of evil and mischief and Dipper almost thought jumping out of the window was a better option than sticking around. “First, I just might challenge the winner _right now_!”

“How are you gonna do that?” Dipper snapped.

Out of nowhere, Bill pulled out his cell phone. Punching one number, he speed dialed someone all the while staring at Dipper with that fucking grin of his. Eye twinkling, Dipper felt his blood run cold run as a cheerful voice he recognized answered with, “Why, hello there Bill.”

“Gideon!” Bill crooned. “How's my little friend doin'?”

“Bill, no!” Dipper cried.

Holding the phone away from his ear, Bill leered at Dipper, “Keep your friends close, Pine tree.” Putting the phone back to his ear, he said, “Yes, as a matter of fact that is Dipper Pines. You see, he tried calling you a little while ago to set up a date—”

To this day, Dipper would claim that a demon possessed him to do what he did. What did he do exactly? He wrenched the phone out of Bill's hand and threw it against the wall and the phone shattered across the wooden floor of the attic. Bill stared at him, and for the first time seemed utterly bewildered by Dipper's actions. Before the adrenaline ran out, Dipper declared, “No one, absolutely no one, is going to toy with Mabel's feelings like that!”

A moment of silence passed between them as what Dipper had done sank in. Bill was the first to break the quiet. “You just broke my phone.”

“She worked hard to get Gideon out of her life.”

“You shattered my phone.”

“You are not going to bring that toxic little prisspot back into her life!”

“My phone—”

“Fuck your phone!” Dipper shouted. “I have now broken two phones in my lifetime, and let me tell you: I don't regret it.”

After what felt like several minutes, Bill's face contorted into one of pure evil. At least, Dipper was convinced it was the face of evil. Face red, eye bulging, and teeth bared, suddenly Dipper recalled that he was supposed to be a little bit scared of Bill. Suddenly he realized that everything he'd done up to this point may have been a series of very, very bad ideas. Suddenly he started to regret everything despite having said he didn't regret anything.

Bill moved so fast that Dipper wouldn't have had time to react if he'd seen him coming. One minute Bill was seething, the next he'd walloped Dipper so hard on the side of his head that his hat went flying. Dipper's reaction was a knee jerk one, the young man recovering quick enough to hit Bill in a similar fashion. Somehow his little finger hooked the strap of the eye-patch and snapped it. Dipper came to his senses then, clapping both hands over his mouth as Bill ignored the redness that had formed on the side of his face to cover his nearly exposed eye. After a few moments of holding his head, Bill's visible eye shot open and he uttered, “Agh, motherf—”

“I'm sorry! Oh my God, I didn't,” Dipper cut himself off and buried his hands in his hair, wincing at the still sore side of his head. “Oh God I'm sorry, what can I do? What can I—?”

“You can shut up,” Bill declared as he turned away to tie his patch back into place. He struggled with the broken straps, unable to tie them tight enough to use the patch again. “Shit!” he muttered to himself.

“Here,” Dipper said, stepping forward a little bit. Keeping his eyes down, he had reached into his pocket for a roll of ribbon Mabel had shoved at him while getting ready for setup with Grunkle Stan. Bill glanced over his shoulder at what Dipper was holding out to him, hesitating to take it from him at first. His movements were slower now as he took the ribbon from Dipper's hand. Dropping the eye-patch in favor of wrapping the ribbon around his head, Bill ripped the material with his bare hands after tying it tight.

When he turned back to Dipper, his glare was less fierce and his fluster had grown. Dipper wanted to apologize again, but was cut off when Bill growled, “I hate you.”

Brow furrowing and tongue working against his better judgment, Dipper snarled back, “I hate you too.”

Chest heaving as he breathed heavily through his mouth, Bill clenched his fists and retorted, “Glad the feeling's still mutual.”

Dipper wouldn't have expected what happened next to occur in a hundred, no, a million years. The air fled Dipper's lungs as Bill grabbed his forearms and shoved him backwards until his legs hit the day seat by the window. Forced up on the cushion and against the glass with Bill's knee planted firmly between his thighs, Dipper was thoroughly pinned. His arms hurt from Bill's grip and his back strained at the odd angle Bill had forced him into. He soon forgot all of the various pains when Bill's lips mashed into his and forced his mouth open. Dipper let out a noise he wasn't quite sure how to label as Bill's tongue invaded his mouth. He fought against the hold the other man had on him at first, completely taken aback and out of his league now. As if to quell his struggling, Bill suddenly drove his thigh into Dipper's groin and . . . that should not have felt as good as it had. Dipper should not have crumpled against Bill at the feeling.

Then, as if to awaken him from the fog that had taken hold of his mind, Bill bit Dipper's lip. The young man cried out, leaning his head back and away from Bill's teeth. Bill pulled back, seeing an opening, and sank his teeth into the skin of Dipper's neck. Dipper breathed loud and heavy, eyes going wide as Bill suckled his throat. Oh Jesus, this was not supposed to feel so good. This was not supposed to feel so amazing. What the hell was he doing?

“I thought we were fighting.” The words came out breathy and much needier than Dipper could have ever approved of.

“We're still fighting,” Bill snarled against his neck before finding a new patch of skin to torment. Then he let go of Dipper's wrists to shove the young man's vest off. Pulling back, he then worked Dipper's shirt over his head, ruffling his thick brown locks in which Bill's hands were soon buried. 

It was at this point that Dipper considered himself a traitor, because he pushed Bill with enough force that the other stumbled backwards off the seat. Before he could recover, Dipper managed to shove him onto the floor and poise between Bill's legs. Taking the lapels of the buttoned-down shirt in each hand, Dipper soon successfully ripped Bill's shirt open. Buttons scattering over the wooden floor, Dipper's lips were soon attacking Bill's again. Fingers itching, Dipper dug his nails into Bill's sides before scratching and leaving red marks that led to his hips. Bill let out a loud mixture of a chuckle and a shout as Dipper began unbuckling the man's belt and undoing his pants.

Dipper choked on his own breath as Bill's hand seized the area just under his jaw and used that leverage to force Dipper onto his back. Straddling Dipper's waist and shirking his shirt, he released Dipper momentarily to finish removing the shirt entirely. Then his hand went right back to holding Dipper down by his somewhat sore throat. With one hand, Bill began undoing and pulling off Dipper's pants and underwear. It wasn't until then that Dipper started blushing and shivering at what they were doing. Eyes growing a little wide, he felt his skin start to tingle and his wits start to reassemble. “Bill,” he croaked out.

He wasn't able to continue as Bill's hand wrapped around his length and he was thrown back into the fray. “Put your brain away for a moment and enjoy arguing with me.” Bill's voice was husky and much deeper than before. That coupled with Bill's hand moving on his member made him buck and squirm beneath him. 

Removing the hand from Dipper's neck, Bill pulled something out of his pocket and set it above Dipper's head so he couldn't see it before kicking his pants and boxers off. Eyes closing and a whimper escaping his lips as Bill's hand released his length, Dipper murmured, “This doesn't count for going outside naked.” Bill's smile sent shivers over his skin, the man's chuckle making him tremble further. He was slightly aware of something coming undone above his head, but it didn't register for him to question it. That is, until Bill lifted one of his thighs and pushed two, slicked fingers into him. Dipper's eyes went wide, cheeks flushing and lungs seizing as a squeak took the place of the outburst that would have come out of his mouth. Bill was not gentle. He was not slow and he was only just barely patient. Dipper clawed his chest, shoulders, back, drawing blood at times. That made Bill's eye roll and his body shake and shiver the way Dipper's was doing now. It took everything Dipper had not to scream whenever Bill saw fit to add another finger. One of Dipper's hands clenched in Bill's light hair, careful not to disturb the ribbon but tight enough to elicit a group of labored breaths from the man. 

“Shit,” Bill snarled as he pulled his fingers from Dipper. He hadn't expected to, but Dipper actually whined at the absence. “Teeth! Use your teeth!” Bill growled into his ear. Dipper obeyed, teeth digging into the skin below Bill's ear and snagging his earlobe in the process. Bill groaned loudly before driving himself inside Dipper, making Dipper bite down harder to squelch his screams.

Bill's thrusts were not rhythmic. They were wild and fast and Bill reached down between them to pump Dipper's member and those movements were just as erratic. Dipper felt tears gathering in the corners of his eyes at the stretch. He slowly adjusted and the pain stopped, turning into something akin to pleasure. He tasted blood in one part of his mouth as he leaned his head back and Bill attacked his throat again. Dipper was reduced to a pile of shudders and whimpers as his insides coiled in preparation for release. When he came, he swore he went blind from the force. Bill continued thrusting, Dipper feeling the soreness coming on right up until Bill reached orgasm.

When Bill pulled out and slid off to lie beside him, Dipper started to feel the aches from having been on a wooden floor nearly the whole time. He feared turning his head, throat peppered with painful bite marks. He didn't even want to think about how sore his nether regions were. He could only imagine how Bill felt. His knees were probably red and raw from kneeling, and he was covered in angry welts left behind by Dipper's nails.

Both gasping and sweating from the encounter, it took a few moments for Dipper to reassess what had happened enough to talk. When he found his voice again, he said, “You planned this.”

Somehow Bill's mouth was right beside his ear again, whispering, “Yep.”

Something inside Dipper snapped. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Seriously?” Dipper nodded, and Bill laughed lightly. The laughter irritated him. “You seriously don't know?”

“It's not funny, Bill.” Because Dipper was suddenly feeling pretty cheated himself. It felt like he'd been manipulated into this frolic and he was not pleased about the thought. He really wanted it to be a fabrication within his own mind.

“I've had my eye on you since I got here, Potato chip.”

Dipper opened one eye, peering over at Bill while moving his head as little as possible. “Really?”

“You really haven't noticed? Wow. I thought you were supposed to be observant or something.”

“Shut up. We're supposed to be fighting.” Dipper just had to get the energy required back. Oddly, the notion that Bill had been interested in him (he wasn't sure that was the proper term) for that long actually made him feel less bad about what had just transpired between them.

Bill rubbed Dipper's chest, uttering, “We'll fight again later. Promise.” Dipper nodded, closing his eyes again and trying to imagine himself getting up and out of the attic. Well, up and back into his clothes would be easier to imagine. Or would it? He wasn't positive he could even imagine himself moving out of this position, he was so sore. He was thinking that maybe it was indeed possible when Bill suddenly crooned, “Was that your first time?” Dipper's only response was a light smack on Bill's leg. The man's laughter was dark and low. “It was!”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

“I am now in possession of the crucial cherry of Dipper Pines!”

“You're gonna be in possession of another punch in the face if you keep that up.”

“Well, I feel flattered. Was it special? I've just got to know, did it meet your standards?”

Dipper opened his eyes to glower at the ceiling. “I certainly won't forget it. Does that satisfy your answer?”

“Yes,” Bill hissed at his side.

Dipper closed his eyes and tried imagining himself getting out of this room again. Unfortunately the only thing he could think to do, much to Bill's amusement, was raise his arms and ask, “And since when am I a potato chip?”


	4. Chapter 4

Their relationship hadn't changed much. They still played tricks, but as far as they were concerned the battle was off. The only thing that had really changed was . . . well. What happened behind closed doors was still rather hush-hush. Their little fights didn't occur too often, but they occurred often enough that Dipper's skin no longer crawled when Bill brushed past him. No, it heated up, flushed, and sweat began pooling at his temples. Meanwhile, Bill looked as smooth as ever. He wasn't even fazed, it seemed.

The arguments started over little things. Who put cinnamon on the plate? Who hid the hat? Who stole the pillow? Where's the extra eye patch Grunkle Stan set aside after that one time Bill showed up with a ribbon wrapped around his head? Sometimes they didn't even bother shouting before heading somewhere private and taking their anger out on one another. Bill's back had to be scarred by now and Dipper was running out of high-collared shirts and vests to cover the bite marks on his neck.

But with Mabel away with friends and no work to do on this Sunday, Dipper had slept in. Stumbling downstairs, he wasn't expecting Bill to come barreling down the hall from his room toward him. At first, Dipper's eyes widened and he was about to step out of the man's way. Then Bill hooked his arm and proceeded to drag him back upstairs and Dipper was at a loss for what he'd done to deserve the look Bill had given him before being seized.

The area in the attic where these encounters often took place had accrued a couple of comforters and pillows on the floor for these sorts of occasions. It was on these pillows and comforters where Dipper was thrown before Bill proceeded to pin him to the floor. “What now?!” Dipper cried before Bill's lips seized his.

“Just shut up,” the other growled as he bit Dipper's lip and began tugging his clothes off. That was the end of that discussion.

After they got through the initial aftereffects of that scene, Dipper asked again, “Are you going to tell me what I did this time?”

Bill shook his head, refusing to look at him at first. If Dipper didn't know any better, he'd say the man was stressed. What was stressing him, Dipper had no idea. It couldn't be the new phone, seeing as he'd taken every step to make sure it had everything on it that Bill's old phone had. Pulling one of the comforters over himself, he curled up on his side and started to doze off again. Their fights took a lot out of him and he often couldn't (didn't want to was more accurate) move after an encounter. Half asleep, he swore he felt a hand petting his hair. He sighed at the sensation, angling his head upward to nuzzle the hand that was stroking his locks. The hand paused at Dipper's movement, and Dipper heard a just barely audible, “I hate you.”

Dipper mumbled without thinking about what he was saying, “Feeling's mutual.” When he finally awoke, the sensation was gone and Bill had left him alone on the comforters to rest. At first he'd thought the hand and the whispered words were a dream, but that didn't feel correct. If he asked, though, he knew Bill would feign ignorance. If it had actually happened, that is.

Later that day, Dipper got a text from Mabel saying she was staying with Grenda and Candy for the week. Sighing, he really wished he could consult her on his situation. Keep his and Bill's relationship to himself had its drawbacks, but he wasn't sure if Bill and he really counted as a couple. He didn't even know what to call it anymore. Was this a rivalry? If so, it was one of the weirdest rivalries he'd ever encountered. The shack felt lonely without his sister, and he and Bill only talked so much anymore. When work started up again and Mabel still wasn't around, the shack was utterly boring. On top of that, it promised to be a slow day. Even Grunkle Stan was bored to death.

Then Bill somehow procured a radio and started blasting music. What should be playing of all songs? Apparently _Heat of the Moment_ was a popular pick today. Leaning on the counter with a book, Dipper did everything in his power not to acknowledge the man dancing over to him. That is, he tried until Bill gave him no choice and pulled the book out of his hands. Dipper made a noise akin to disapproval as Bill slammed the book shut and set it aside. “Dance with me, Pine tree.”

“What? No!” Dipper sputtered.

“Come on! It's boring dancing alone. Shootin' star would do it.”

“Where'd you even find that radio?”

“Question mark patched it up. Now come on!”

“Wah!” Dipper cried as Bill pulled him out in the middle of the floor. Dipper stumbled the first couple of steps, Bill grasping his hands and just barely keeping him upright. “Bill, I don't dance!”

“Me either. Make something up!” he declared, pulling Dipper closer before starting to sing along.

After a few minutes of blushing and stumbling, Dipper actually started singing along as well. Finding something that looked like a rhythm, he and Bill were eventually singing and dancing to the old song. Spinning and almost stepping on each other's feet, it took Dipper a moment to realize he was actually having fun. He was sweating bullets, flushed as all get out, but ultimately he was actually enjoying himself.

With Bill. 

He was having fun with Bill.

On some level, that notion still felt farfetched to him. He was not the only one surprised. Grunkle Stan stood off to the side with a Pitt Cola in hand, unblinking and semi-frightened by what he was seeing. When the song finally ended, he decreed, “Work's over. I can't watch the two of you anymore.” Then he grumbled to himself, “Acting like you like each other. Making me sick.”

Soos came from around the corner, chiming in, “I don't think they're acting, dude.”

“What?” Dipper said, scratching his head. Suddenly his skin felt very hot again. He heard a snicker at his side and was afraid to look at Bill for fear the man would be rubbing his hands together insanely. “Soos, why you . . .,” oh boy, “why you talkin',” don't say it don't, say it, “cray cray?” Fuck, he said it. Mabel would be proud, but Dipper was embarrassed as hell at the poor vocabulary.

“I don't think it's cray cray, dude. The two of you have really hit it off of late,” Soos said as he unplugged the radio and picked it up at Stan's behest.

“Hit it off. Yeah,” the old man grumbled.

Dipper's blush deepened, and Bill's snickering grew louder beside him. What was so damn funny? Was he enjoying watching Dipper melt into a puddle of embarrassment? Risking a glance, Dipper concluded that yes. Yes, Bill was enjoying his humiliation. He was watching him intently and that goddamn evil grin of his was penetrating his skin. “I don't . . . I don't know what—”

“Oh, quit acting innocent Dipper Pines!” Grunkle Stan cut him off. Waving his hand at the two of them, he then proceeded to shout, “The mystery of you two's relationship was ruined for me when I saw my nephew's bare ass up against the upstairs window pane!”

The color then proceeded to drain from Dipper's face. Soos looked equally devastated by Stan's revelation, but Dipper somehow doubted the man's guts were twisting as much as his were. Breathing heavily, he looked over at Bill's stricken face. No, no one had seen that coming.

After a few seconds of freezing solid, Dipper's face started to contort. Bill quickly tried to play everything off with what looked like a pained smile. Tapping his fingertips together, sweat formed at his temples as he watched Dipper. In a low, demonic tone he had no idea he possessed, Dipper snarled, “You said no one could see us.”

“Heh,” Bill mumbled. “I said . . . no one was looking.”

“Well, guess what Bill?” The color started returning to Dipper's face full force as he reached down to grip a stool. “Someone was.”

“Pine tree,” Bill backed up towards the door, pointing at the stool, “what're you gonna do with that?”

“You,” Dipper raised said stool above his head, “asshole!” 

“Oh shit!” Bill screamed. Then Dipper was chasing Bill out the door, the other turning and booking it for the woods as fast as he could.

“Wait! No!” Dipper heard Grunkle Stan shouting upon their exit. He faintly heard the old man shouting, “Dammit Soos! Where's my camera when I need it?! I could've sold that!”

Following Bill into the woods, Dipper held the stool tight in his grip. Dodging each branch and trunk easily, Bill struggled to remain on a clear path. He didn't quite know the woods as well as Dipper did at this point, though Dipper was sure that he wished he did. It was a trunk that got him, tripping him up and forcing him face first into the dirt. He rolled over just in time for Dipper to bring the stool down onto him, the legs trapping his arms and torso easier than Dipper anticipated. He was surprised at how well that worked without him having to actually hurt Bill seriously, though the look on the other's face was absolutely priceless. It looked like he was watching his life flash before his eyes. When he regained his senses, he tried lifting the stool up off of him and squeezing out of the space. Dipper leaned on the stool to keep it in place, pleased that Bill's shoulders were just too broad for him to simply squeeze out. When Bill stopped struggling and realized he was trapped, he glared up at Dipper and yelled, “Let me up, Pine tree!”

“No,” Dipper snarled back, red in the face and gritting his teeth as he kept hold of the stool.

“Come on!” Bill growled, stilling. He took a lighter tone when he said, “As far as families finding out about your weird ass relationships, that went pretty well.”

“I could have gone my _entire life_ without my great uncle seeing my ass and I would have been _great_!” 

“That's what you were worried about? Shoo!” Dipper glowered down at Bill as the other let out an exaggerated exhale. “I can live with that.”

“Oh I bet you can, but guess what?”

“What?” His tone was annoyed now as he gripped the legs of the stool and scowled back at Dipper.

“You owe me some naked parading in the woods.”

Bill's head tilted back as he squinted at Dipper. “Is that all? You chased me out here for that?”

“I was going to kill you. Are you saying I should?”

Bill rolled his eyes. Then he gave Dipper the sickeningly sweetest grin he'd ever seen. “Remove the chair and I'll start my striptease.”

Dipper hesitated for a moment before pulling the stool off of him. Setting it aside and folding his arms, he leaned up against a tree and watched as Bill got up off the ground. Brushing the dirt off his clothes, he then gave Dipper a sultry smile and with half-lidded eyes removed his shirt. The expression on Bill's face only made Dipper frown more. He was not in a gaming mood, but Bill always seemed to be. Now he was too ashamed to look his Grunkle Stan in the eye. It'll probably be another month before he'd be able to speak to the old man without remembering what the old man had seen and stuttering the whole time he spoke.

Now shirtless, Bill parked his legs out and dramatically undid his fly. He wasn't kidding. He was putting on a show. Dipper was still red in the face from how angry he was, so it was the perfect cover to disguise that he actually was enjoying Bill undressing for him. It wasn't a successful cover. Bill maintained eye contact with Dipper, smirking as he noticed Dipper was indeed enjoying it. He chuckled, making the young man burst out with, “Stop that!”

“Oh, you like it,” Bill crooned as he eased the pants off, leaving his boxers on. 

“Whatever. Just get it over with.”

Kicking his shoes, socks, and pants off, all that was left was his boxers. Stepping out of his pants and kicking them and his shoes over on top of his shirt, he turned his back on Dipper and started to bend over. Dipper's eyes widened as Bill slid his underwear off with his thumbs as he went down, presenting his ass to the young man as he was rendered completely naked. When he stood back up, he dropped the underwear on top of the rest of his clothes and stared shamelessly back at Dipper. “Like what you see?” Dipper was most definitely not going to answer that. A moment passed as he straightened up and took a step closer, arms dropping to his sides. Bill squinted at his stance, then his seductive gaze slowly turned into a warning glare. “Don't you do it,” he growled through gritted teeth. Dipper smirked back. It was his turn to be sly. “Don't even think it—Pine tree? Pine tree!”

It was too late. Dipper had ducked, grabbed Bill's clothes, and started running all the way back to the shack. With Dipper laughing the whole way, Bill screamed all sorts of obscenities as he chased the young man back. Though Dipper was fast, he clearly underestimated Bill's anger. Nearing the edge of the woods, he was stopped dead as the other tackled him to the ground. Hat flying forward as the air was knocked out of him, Dipper lay on the ground with Bill on top of him for a moment before gasping out, “Ow.” Spitting the dirt out of his mouth, Dipper groaned as Bill got up enough to flip him over onto his back and punch him in the jaw. “Agh!” he cried out, reaching for the sore spot before Bill had him pinned beneath him.

“You sorry little shit! This is exactly why I can't like you!” Dipper didn't know why, but that made him laugh. Then Bill started tearing at his clothes, pulling apart the flannel shirt he was wearing with ease and shoving it up and off his arms and shoulders. At this point, Dipper didn't fight. Well, he didn't fight until Bill whispered, “I did say I'd get you naked out here one way or another.”

Then Dipper was growling and clawing at Bill's chest. To stave off the attack, Bill reached down between them and grasped Dipper's groin firmly making Dipper gasp again. When Dipper caught his breath, he spat, “Dammit Bill!”

“Don't dammit me, you started this!” Bill yanked Dipper's pants and underwear down, then started grinding against him furiously. 

“Oh God,” Dipper let out, taken aback by Bill's frantic pace. He couldn't move his legs, trapped by Bill's weight and his only partially removed pants. This left the whole scene in Bill's control, the thought making Dipper's eyes roll back and his body flush as it struggled to keep up with Bill. Feeling the dirt, twigs, and grass digging into his back, he unleashed a pained cry when Bill's teeth sank into the side of his neck. Dragging his nails down Bill's back, they found a home on Bill's hips where they dug in and bit the other man's flesh. Bill seized the last bit of control Dipper had by tearing the young man's hands from his sides and holding them down above Dipper's head. Bill shifted to bite down on the other side of Dipper's neck just as hard, forcing another cry from him. Once Bill's teeth loosened on his skin, he found himself chuckling out, “Is that the best you've got?”

Bill paused, glaring at him for a second. Then his mouth twisted into the most intimidating smile Dipper had received from him yet. He actually cringed as Bill laughed sinisterly just before whispering, “These are sensitive, right?” and dipping his head down to bite one of Dipper's nipples.

Dipper screamed, seeing white from the combined pain and spike of pleasure. Grinding his teeth together and biting back more vocalizations, he squeezed his eyes shut as Bill continued onto the other nipple. “Fuck!” Dipper yelled. “That hurt! God that hurt!”

“Good,” Bill murmured before mashing his lips into Dipper's and thrusting against him harder. Dipper groaned, forcing his tongue into Bill's mouth just to have Bill bite it. He cried out, turning his head away but Bill's teeth were persistent in looking for things to sink into. He bit Dipper's jaw, his ear, his cheek, Dipper just couldn't escape Bill's teeth. When Bill wasn't biting his face, Dipper took the initiative and returned the favor. Biting one of Bill's ears, the other's growl turned into a laugh as he reached between them to hold together and pump their members. 

Dipper threw his head back, panting as something in his abdomen began to coil and tighten. “Bill,” he whined out unintentionally.

Bill shuddered above him, one hand grasping them while the other still held Dipper's wrists. “I like the way you say my name,” he snarled against Dipper's ear. “Say it again.”

Dipper did, repeating it softly and breathlessly as he felt himself nearing the edge. His orgasm was blinding, his warmth and Bill's spilling onto his stomach between them. His head felt fuzzy after climax and they slowly came back down. Opening his eyes and letting them adjust to the light again, Bill's face was still flushed as he remained poised above Dipper. Dipper smirked up at him and stage whispered, “You're blushing.”

“Am not,” Bill said, sliding off of him quickly and grabbing for the clothes Dipper had tried to make off with.

“Yes you are,” Dipper retorted, lying still for the time being.

“No. I'm. Not.”

“Yes. You. Are.”

“It was the exercise.” Bill was pulling his clothes on quickly now, and Dipper could see the blush extending to his neck.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“You're lucky I let you come. I should have left you here with a raging boner.” Bill's snide remarks normally would have made Dipper mad. Now, he just chuckled because of how red the other's face was. “Stop laughing. I don't like you.”

“I don't like you either,” Dipper said.

“Good. That's settled.”

“It was settled before.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” He jammed his arms into his sleeves as Dipper sat up and wiped the mess off his stomach. Picking up his shirt, he tried to reach around to brush the leaves and sticks off his backside before pulling up his pants and standing. Pulling the shirt over his head, he buttoned it up as Bill laced his shoes angrily. He'd had no idea anyone could lace their shoes angrily until now.

Slipping his hat on, Dipper asked as Bill stood up, “Why would you be blushing anyway?”

“I'mnotblushing,” Bill growled through gritted teeth. Grabbing Dipper by the upper arms, he slammed the young man into the nearest tree. Though they'd just had sex, Dipper felt his insides heat up all over again in response to the force with which Bill kissed him. It was hard and brief, Bill pulling away swiftly and dropping Dipper. Dipper hadn't realized how much Bill was holding him up until his feet touched the ground fully again and his knees buckled under his own weight. Gathering himself together, he watched Bill stomp away in a huff.

It clicked in his mind that suddenly, their roles seemed reversed. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

He let Bill get away this time, taking his time leaving the woods. Rubbing his forehead, he tried wracking his brain over what had been happening recently. Then it made his head hurt and he wondered if he should ask Mabel what all of this meant. When she got back, that is. She still seemed to know more about relationships that he did. He still wasn't even sure if this qualified as a relationship. In fact, everything seemed way more complicated now and his chest started hurting just thinking of it.

Exiting the forest, he could hear Grunkle Stan shouting something to Soos and was embarrassed all over again. Covering his face and sighing, he made a pact with himself to avoid them for a while. Looking up again, Bill was nowhere to be seen. That was probably for the best. They should really not see each other for a while after that incident. Dipper just needed to avoid everybody. Yes, that was the best option. Good plan, Dipper, he thought to himself. He was tired and a little sore from the encounter and decided that locking himself upstairs would be his best way to escape. Staving off his questions and concerns for now, he let the weariness sink in. Heading inside the shop, he was about to make his way to his room when he realized he wasn't the only one in the building. He didn't recognize who it was at first, so he swallowed his tiredness, ignored how unkempt he appeared, and greeted them like he would any customer.

“Sorry, can I help—,” then he froze, cutting himself off as the identity of the individual revealed itself to him. Dipper had to look up to see the man fully, and he really wished he hadn't left the woods at that point. The man was so different from what he'd looked like as a child. He was taller with his white hair slicked back instead of bumped up. The bulk of his weight had gone from fat to muscle with age. His clothing was casual now, the only thing fancy about it being the brand names. The smile hadn't changed. The facial expressions in general hadn't changed a bit.

“Not so little anymore, am I Dipper Pines?” Gideon teased. His voice was deeper, but still high enough to be annoying.

He reached up to pat Dipper on the head, which broke Dipper out of his frozen state. Dodging the hand, he ducked behind the counter to put something between him and Gideon Gleeful. Pointing at the other man, he cried, “No! No, you should not be here! Get out!”

“Why, that's mighty rude of you.” Dipper plastered himself against the wall as Gideon leaned on the table. “I just came to inquire about this supposed date you were interested in.”

Dipper squinted. “Date? What date?” Why did this have to happen now? Good he have showed up tomorrow? Maybe he could have showed up never? Or maybe he could have at least shown up when Dipper wasn't _by himself without a weapon_?

Gideon started examining his fingernails casually, picking at some dirt underneath as he said, “The one Bill called me about before the call was mysteriously lost.” He looked about as maniacally cheerful as he had when they were kids, and that unnerved Dipper on a molecular level. “Now, was this a date with you? Mabel?” His eyes widened gleefully and his smile turned jack-o-lantern. “Both?”

“Okay, one,” Dipper began, slipped to the side to get out from behind the counter, “Bill was just trying to get a rise out of me by calling you. Two,” he slid back into place behind the counter when he realized Gideon was sidestepping with him, “Mabel still flinches at the mention of you. Hell no, you are not going on a date with her. Three,” Gideon leaned on his elbow, hand dipping into his back pocket, “you tried to throw me off a cliff! Why in any context would I even be seen with you?!”

Gideon's eyes went from squinting at him to wide again, his smile still fixed in place. “Are you saying that my time is being wasted here?” Dipper felt his skin start crawling as he realized there was no good way to answer that question. He had not been so self-conscious about his size since before puberty, and he'd thought puberty had blessed him in some ways. It seemed it had seen fit to bless Gideon more, because he was now buff and huge and Dipper was the shorter, leaner nerd. He felt like he was about to be shoved into a locker again, or worse. It was Gideon, so definitely worse. He really wished Grunkle Stan kept some sort of weapon hidden under the counter, because he was afraid for his life at the moment. Then again, it wasn't like he could get to the counter. Not without fear of being grabbed. Gideon let out an exhale that sounded like a train whistle, then said, “Well, since my beautiful Mabel isn't here,” Dipper's fears of being grabbed were realized as Gideon reached across the counter and seized the collar of his flannel, pulling him up against the counter with a painful thunk, “it looks like you're the only candidate here for a date, son.”

“I'm not going with you,” Dipper squeaked out, prying at Gideon's hands.

“Oh, I think you and I have different ideas of what a date looks like.” Gideon's words made ice collect in Dipper's veins. Oh God, wasn't part of Gideon's sentence to get some therapy? Who'd he have as a therapist, fucking Michael Kaufmann? “Wanna see what prison taught me?”

Before Dipper could move or react in any sort of way, he was being pulled across the counter. A brief cry escaped his lips before Gideon suddenly stopped, Dipper halfway over the counter with his feet off the ground and hands gripping the counter edges in a desperate attempt to save himself. When he glanced up to see what had stopped Gideon, his own eyes widened and breath halted. Bill was standing behind the bigger man, holding his machete to Gideon's neck. Dipper had thought he'd seen Bill angry before. He was wrong. This was far worse than anger. Bill clearly had murder ingrained somewhere in his anatomy. “I'm sorry,” Bill said mockingly, tone low and much more demonic than Dipper could have ever pulled off. “Dipper Pines is already taken.”

Gideon's face went from petrified to grinning again. “Bill Cipher. You silver-tongued devil.”

“Prison's got nothing on me, kid. Put down the Pine tree.” 

Gideon lowered Dipper enough so that the young man's toes were brushing the ground, but he didn't let go. “Are you telling me that Bill Cipher and Dipper Pines are an item?” Gideon asked in disbelief.

“I'm telling you that if you don't put my boyfriend down, you're going to have a few burst veins on your hands.” No Dipper, he thought to himself, now is not the time for you to question Bill on that statement. God knew he wanted to, though. His face burned as Gideon finally set him down, Dipper stumbling and falling against the wall again. “Excellent!” He looked up in time to see Bill pull the machete back, then use the hilt to knock Gideon out cold.

Dipper felt like he was hyperventilating, and Bill looked like he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to proceed with a murder as Gideon dropped to the ground. “I thought we had a restraining order on that guy,” another voice chimed in. It was then that Dipper realized Grunkle Stan and Soos had been standing in the doorway. How long, he wasn't positive. Grunkle Stan looked to Dipper and asked, “You okay, kid?” Dipper wasn't wholly sure, but he nodded anyway.

“I'll call Blubs,” Soos said, moving over to the phone on the wall.

“Bill, you just gonna stand there with that knife or are you gonna stick it in him?” Grunkle Stan asked nervously. Dipper felt his knees give, afraid that Bill might actually stab Gideon then.

Much to his relief, he didn't. “I'll just go put this away,” he said, easing over to the doorway. Grunkle Stan sighed, but Dipper remained stiff. When Bill stopped in the doorjamb, he actually thought Bill had changed his mind. 

Then he doubled back and set the knife down on the counter. “What are you—?” Dipper let out another cry as Bill picked him up and flung him over his shoulder. “Bill, what the—?”

“This too,” Bill said, picking up the machete and proceeding onward.

Surprisingly no one argued with him on that point. Not even Dipper.


	5. Chapter 5

Bill was not prone to such losses of control. He liked to think he was more in control of his faculties than anyone else around him. He also liked to think himself a patient man, for he could wait for days for something to come to fruition. All of this had gone out the window recently, and he could think of only one reason for it. He was holding that reason hostage, as a matter of fact.

When the police came by to pick up Gideon, they'd had to go deeper into the shack to find and question Dipper. The questioning hadn't lasted long once they spied the machete still lying within Bill's reach. Dipper was irate for a short amount of time, but eventually he just gave in and slumped against Bill's chest.

Bill didn't know how long he'd been fuming, but eventually he settled down enough to realize Dipper's eyes were closed and his breathing had evened out. He hadn't yet started snoring, but it was coming. Bill knew this because he'd become well acquainted with the way Dipper dropped off after a particularly intense scene. His snoring was never heavy. It was light, but still present enough for Bill to have memorized its sound.

Pulling Dipper's hat off his head and setting it with the knife, Bill pulled one of his blankets up over the young man slowly and quietly. Once he'd settled back into his position, Dipper covered and leaning against him undisturbed, he caught himself watching him. He sighed, a million and one thoughts fighting for dominance in his mind. It seemed the only word that was capable of making itself known amongst the pandemonium was 'mine.' If it was his home he were in, he might have gone so far as to write 'Property of Bill Cipher' on Dipper's forehead. Nah, he thought. He wouldn't cover that birthmark for anything. Maybe he would have written it on his cheek. Or neck. Somewhere visible. The sadistic side of him wanted to carve it into Dipper. He tried not to act on that side too much. It tended to get him into trouble.

“What am I going to do with you, Pine tree?” he whispered aloud. He had no idea. He hadn't come here looking for this. He hadn't expected this at all. Dipper and Mabel had reminded him so much of his friends as a kid that he couldn't resist getting closer to them. If he was going to expect anything of this sort, he would have guessed Mabel to be his first pick. She had the potential to be just as much trouble as him, but Dipper . . . he'd been drawn to him like a moth to flame. He wasn't a fan of clichés, but this one fit. The first moment he laid his eye on the reserved, quiet young man, he couldn't stop himself.

And he hated himself for it, because now he'd made a fool of himself. He'd lost his precious control and even lost his yet more valuable patience, all because of a skinny little brown-haired man who was too smart and resourceful for his own good. But God did it feel good knock the hell out of that white-haired pain in the ass. His hands clenched into Dipper's clothes as he held the young man tighter. Gideon had really done it. He'd really pissed him the fuck off. And now he was in even more trouble. He wasn't sure how he could handle Dipper rebuffing him. He hadn't done so so far, but Bill had the inclination that it was coming. It had to be.

Because Dipper hated him, but he'd be lying if he said the feeling was mutual.

It was this thought that made him pick Dipper up careful bridal style, wrapping the young man in his blanket as he went. Once he was up with the still sleeping young man in his arms, he carried him out of his room and upstairs where he placed him in his bed. Then he left. Rubbing his face, he cursed himself for being such an idiot. With any luck, he'd have at least a tiny shred of his dignity left in the morning.

:)

Work was busy the following day, so Bill and Dipper had very little time to interact. The only time they spoke was with Stanford, who was content to keep them busy so they didn't think about what happened yesterday. Bill was certain that was more for Stan's sake than anyone else's. He suspected this because he kept catching the old man giving him warning glares. He was two seconds from picking a fight when one such glare was accompanied by an uncharacteristic pat on the shoulder. Bill understood then that Stan's approval was grudgingly given. Bill shrugged it off. Dipper hadn't exactly said anything, so he wasn't sure the approval was really necessary.

At dinner, Dipper received a text from Mabel that made his face fall in a way that upset Bill. “She's staying with Pacifica.” Dipper's head rested on his arms, and Bill wished he understood the bond the twins had. While he had siblings, he'd never been close to either of them. In fact, they couldn't stand one another. Bill was hesitant to approach Dipper after that. The young man hadn't approached him nor had he said anything to him directly. He didn't feel right attacking him either. He hadn't felt right in it for a while, but at least then he'd still been holding fast to the notion that what they had was caliginous. Picking at his food, he was unaware of Stanford getting up and leaving the kitchen until Dipper sat up straight again and looked at him. Stiffening, Bill didn't look up until Dipper said, “So. Boyfriends?”

Bill let out a gust of air that was more forceful than he'd anticipated. He'd had several things in mind that he could have easily made into sensible responses, but instead he said, “I was mad, okay?” Dipper seemed taken aback by the comment, and his expression wasn't as readable as most of his others tended to be. He wasn't in control of his tongue, and so grumbled, “And I didn't like the way he threatened you. Looked at you. _Touched you_.” The last sentence was a snarl.

“Okay, I got it,” Dipper quickly said. They were quiet for a while. Then Dipper uttered, “So you didn't mean it.”

Bill's fist tightened around his fork as he bit his lip. How did he respond? Should he tell the truth? No, that was bad. Maybe a question. It technically wasn't responding to a question with a question since Dipper hadn't enunciated like his statement had been a question. He'd said it like a statement, so a question would be perfectly acceptable but just as _revealing_ and he really didn't want to reveal anymore than he already had. He was already a fool, how much more of a fool could he become? He almost wanted to slam his fist on the table and declare he wasn't hungry and march out. Jesus Christ, it had never been so difficult for him to speak before. All he ever did was talk! He tasted blood from biting his lip and as soon as he let it go— “What do you want?”

Thank whatever god was watching that that had come out quietly and not as loudly as the voices in his head were shouting. The almost inaudible question made Dipper tilt his head, face continuing this new unreadable vein. Bill wasn't fond of it. He liked it better when he could read people. It was one of his better talents, but as per usual Dipper was fucking that up. What a little shit. “I wanna know what's going through your head,” the young man said honestly.

Bill sighed, lip hurting from the cuts his teeth had left. “Let me know when you find out.” Getting up, he went to cover his uneaten meal and put it in the fridge for later. Dumping his silverware in the sink, he wasn't expecting Dipper to be standing there when he turned around.

Nor was he expecting the young man the pull him in for one of the softest kisses Bill had ever experienced. It felt so . . . odd. Up until then kissing had always been hard and rough, which was how Bill liked it. Roughness left little guesswork for him, and he preferred not to guess to much. There were certain riddles he just didn't appreciate. But with Dipper's tongue plunging into his mouth, hands cupping Bill's face, Bill couldn't help becoming so fully engaged in the kiss that when Dipper pulled away he had to stop himself from leaning forward and grabbing the other man. It took all of his strength not to pick him up and carry him away again. Dipper's words rekindled his previous thoughts, however. “I don't know what I'm doing,” he declared before marching away.

Honestly, neither did Bill.

:)

The next time Bill saw Dipper, it was dark and neither of them could sleep. Bill lay in bed with eye wide open, staring at the ceiling when he heard someone pacing between the kitchen and the living room. Pulling an eye patch over his head and getting up to see who it was, he wasn't surprised to find a sullen Dipper heading towards the stairs. He stopped when he saw Bill in the doorway, phone in hand as if waiting for a text.

“Sorry,” he uttered, scratching his head. “I couldn't sleep. Not without Mabel.”

Bill leaned against the frame, trying again and failing to read Dipper. He felt so out of place like this, but this time he actually tried to interact. Without losing it, that is. “Not used to going long without her? How're you gonna ever live separately?”

Dipper shrugged. “I just . . . I really need to talk. To her. To someone.” And there it was: the first expression Bill could actually read that day. Dipper was scared. He felt in over his head.

And somehow, that made Bill feel more comfortable with him again. Slipping on a smile, he murmured, “Well, there's a perfectly good bed in here,” he gestured over his shoulder to his bed. “And look,” he made a show of ducking back into the room before turning back to Dipper, “there's a perfectly good me to go with it.”

Dipper stared at him for a second, as if not knowing how to respond. Then a smile crept onto his face, followed by a chuckle and a shaking head. Whatever tension seemed to be present melted then, and Bill was relieved when Dipper did in fact step into his room. “Alright,” he said as Bill followed him to the bed. Then Dipper turned around and acted like he was going for the door again. Bill stopped him. “I should get your blanket,” Dipper explained.

“I have blankets. Lots of them. No worries.” Dipper didn't fight then. Setting his phone on the bedside table, he let Bill push him gently down onto the mattress. The two settled into bed almost naturally, which was strange considering they'd never been in bed casually without having torn into each other first. Bill had stop himself from berating himself for enjoying the way Dipper felt lying next to him. After some quietude, he felt Dipper laughing against his side. “What's so funny?”

“After all this time, I don't know anything about you,” Dipper admitted. “I don't even know if you prefer comforters to sheets. I don't even know your favorite color, and we've been,” he could practically hear the blush in Dipper's voice, “I don't know if intimate's the right word, but yeah.”

Bill smiled. No, intimate didn't quite work for them. Well, not for their previous relationship. But just as with the previous nature of their relationship, Bill still loved the way Dipper flushed. He just hadn't realized he'd liked the flush when accrued from giddiness or mirth just as much as when caused by embarrassment or anger. “Blue,” he said instead of agreeing with Dipper. “Right now, my favorite color is blue. Tomorrow it might be yellow again, but not right now.”

“Hm,” Dipper hummed. “I actually like green.”

“Noted,” Bill said. There was a pause before he said, “Wanna know my bad habits? Dirty secrets? I'm in a better mood. You should give it a shot.”

Dipper sighed. “I'll ask the hard one first: what's under the eye patch?”

Bill had to commend him for choosing the most dodged subject first. So few were willing to talk about it that it felt more like a burden than it actually was. “Nothing. Had the eye removed after an accident.”

“Do you sleep with the patch on?”

“No. But I have company right now. Don't wanna intimidate you too much just yet.”

“You can take it off. I won't stare.” Dipper said.

Bill actually felt his nerves buzzing at first, and he wasn't sure he could do it. But he sucked it up, as he often did, and took the chance Dipper was offering him. Sliding the strap over his head, he set the patch on the side table. True to his word, Dipper looked but did not stare extensively at it. Instead, he asked, “How'd you lose it?”

“I have brothers.” Usually that was explanation enough.

Not for Dipper. No, he actually liked his sibling. “Your brothers did that to you?!” He sounded so offended that Bill actually had to physically remind himself that not everyone knew about him and his family.

“One, stepbrothers. Two, only one. He wound up completely blind after the same accident. The other brother . . . it's hard to say whether he elected not to acknowledge our existences or if he legitimately forgot about us. Either way, he has both fully functioning eyes and so I can't hate him but so much.”

“What did he do to you? Pluck out your eyes? Battery acid? What happened?”

“Well, let's be reasonable. Battery acid would have damaged my entire face, so no. Chemicals were involved. He was . . . unstable is putting it nicely. Even blinded he still made home life less like home life and more like hell. I sort of envy the middle son for getting out sooner than me.”

There was a long pause before Dipper asked, “Is that part of the favor Grunkle Stan owed you? Getting you out?”

Bill hummed before snorting. “I helped him with some business when I was still young and impressionable. Not that he was a bad influence. No, I was far more devious in my youth. That's why we got along. But instead of accepting payment then, I told him I'd let him know when I needed something. And yes, that something turned out to be working with him and staying with him until I could afford my own upkeep.”

Dipper looked sad. “Damn. I feel . . . really bad for judging you so soon.”

“Don't. I'd judge me too. If I weren't me.”

“In a really sad way, it explains the machete. I'd sleep with one too, and that's just knowing your stepbrother partially blinded you.”

“I actually got that just to scare you.” Bill snickered as Dipper's smirk turned to an all too familiar grimace and the young man smacked his arm. Dipper didn't need to know that his observation was true. Bill wanted to keep the mood light. “Enough about that, though. Tell me something weird about you.”

Dipper thought for a moment, brow furrowing before he blushed again. Bill turned fully to him, watching him carefully as readied his answer. “Mabel and I used to have an imaginary friend.”

“That's hardly weird, Pine tree.”

“It gets weird. She pointed out to me that you reminded her of him. I realized . . . she was right. You're almost an exact duplicate in personality to him.” Dipper looked nervous having admitted that, curling in on himself slightly enough for Bill to notice.

But Bill was genuinely intrigued. “Tell me about this friend.”

It was Dipper's turn to snort. “He got us into a lot of trouble.”

“Sounds about right.”

“We'd go on adventures, solve mysteries. We had so many stories about him we could've written a whole series.”

Bill smiled. “You should.”

“Nah.”

“Why not? Calvin and Hobbes is a thing! You and Mabel could totally sell that.”

“I'd much rather,” pause, “ask you more questions. Like how you know Gideon, for example.”

Bill felt something in his gut begin to recoil and twist at the name. He had to stop himself from grinding his teeth at the mention of that ingrate. His hands fisted in the back of Dipper's shirt before he could breathe out the answer, “Another bit of business, only less profitable for me.”

“You're quite the entrepreneur.” Dipper kissed him then, and suddenly his fists unclenched and smoothed out the wrinkles his hands had caused in Dipper's shirt. Once he was completely calm, Dipper whispered, “If I ever met your siblings, I'd probably have a similar reaction.”

Bill gathered his senses enough to murmur, “You won't meet them. They don't give enough fucks to come looking for me in Oregon.” No, they preferred their desert towns to the forested northwest.

Dipper kissed him again and his mind was a cloud. Pulling the other closer, their legs tangled and it suddenly became very obvious that the two of them were lying together with only shirts and boxers separating their skin. Bill's fingers itched, palms growing feverishly hot as he sought out the flesh on Dipper's hips. Before he could slide his hands under Dipper's shirt, however, the man actually crawled on top of him and pinned his wrists to the pillow. Bill's eye went wide at how forward the young man was being. “You get plenty of opportunities to be in control,” Dipper said between kisses. “My turn.”

Any other time Bill might have overpowered Dipper. He could have overpowered him right then if he'd wanted to. But he didn't want to. He'd hate himself later. For now Dipper could pretend he'd taken all of Bill's control.

In all fairness, he actually had.

:)

Dipper woke up in Bill's bed with Bill's arms wrapped around his torso. He smiled to himself, still bleary eyed from the activities of the night before. He was surprised to be awake at this hour with how late they'd stayed up talking and . . . other things.

Looking to his phone, he saw that it was blinking. He reached for it and checked his messages. There were three from Mabel. The first one: when were u gonna tell me bout gideon D:. The second one: WHEN WERE U GONNA TELL ME BOUT BILL. The last one: PICS OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN.

Maybe it was the fact that he was too tired to comprehend what he was doing. Maybe he was still high on the euphoria of the night before. Either way, he found himself holding the phone out at enough of a distance to capture both him and Bill in a selfie. The camera snapped, and he immediately sent it to her. Setting the phone back down, he glanced over his shoulder to see Bill still sleeping. He considered going back to sleep when suddenly Bill muttered something against his shoulder.

“What?” Dipper asked, aware that Bill was still very much asleep and yet talking to him. So he sleep talked. Good to know.

“I don't want to love you.”

It took Dipper a moment to realize what was really being said. Smiling, he almost said he loved him too. Instead, he whispered back, “Feeling's mutual.”

Judging by Bill's toothy grin (which was a little less sharp now that Dipper was this close to him), Bill knew what he meant as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes the happier of the three fics here. I will take requests for this version of the pairing because they are fun to write. Truly enjoyed writing this.
> 
> Got any further questions, my tumblr is teaforascripturient. I used to be twofacedpsycho, but I changed it for reasons.


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